


Men in Black

by OfWolvesAndDragons



Category: EXO (Band), 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Crack Treated Seriously, Gen, Humor, Reader-Insert, Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-23 19:11:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16165124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OfWolvesAndDragons/pseuds/OfWolvesAndDragons
Summary: We are the best kept secret in the galaxy. We monitor, licence and police all alien activity on the Earth. We're your first, last, and only line of defence. We live in secret, we exist in shadow. And we dress in black.





	Men in Black

**Author's Note:**

> A birthday present for a very good friend featuring two of her biases.

The door to the office closes behind you with a slam loud enough to make Yoongi raise his eyes from the tabloid he’s currently reading. His lips pull back from his teeth in a grimace.

“Protoplasm?”

Two sanitiser crawlers zip backwards and forwards behind you, scrubbing up the wet, gloopy footprints you’re leaving along the floor. “Ectoplasm,” you correct wearily, shedding your soggy suit jacket and tossing it into a nearby bin marked with a _biohazard_ symbol. “Attempted resisted arrest. Apparently under extreme stress Valrathians don’t just spit. They explode.”

Swinging his feet off the desk, Yoongi waves the garishly-coloured magazine he’s reading. It’s a hot sheet. “You might want to get cleaned up. We have a client.”

Your tie has followed the jacket but you stop short of unbuttoning the white dress shirt beneath it. It’s mostly dry of alien intestinal fluid save for what has soaked in around the collar and cuffs. It’ll have to do. “Who? We didn’t have anything scheduled for the rest of today.”

Your partner shrugs. “V sent him in. Apparently he’s high profile.”

“Has he already cleared customs?” Shoes are kicked off and you pull a fresh set from behind the panel that recesses against the back wall. For the last suit you’ll ever wear, you sure do go through a lot of them. “The backlog this morning was enough to start an intergalactic shootout.”

“He has diplomatic papers.”

You pause, eyeballing Yoongi from where you’ve crouched on the floor to tie your laces. “And V wants us to deal with him?”

“ _You_ can deal with him.” Yoongi corrects. “He wouldn’t talk until we were both here. He’s in the back room.”

“You left him in there by himself?”

“It was the only place with enough room.”

 _Enough…_ “Please tell me he’s not a Synth. If another one of those tears a hole in here V _will_ kill us.”

Yoongi waves a hand. “Synths don’t even have a monarchy. They’re purely a militaristic society. So no, he’s definitely not a-”

“He’s _royalty_?” Historically this never ends well.

“He’s… from Pluto.”

You straighten up. “Can I ask him if it’s still a planet?”

Yoongi looks like that was physically painful to hear. “Please just go see him before he moults over any more of the furniture in there.”

“If I have to change clothes three times in one day I’m going to be very angry.”

“It’s not… that kind of moulting.” Yoongi sits back and raises the cheap newspaper up to cover his smirk. The front page proclaims that little green aliens kidnapped a man in Ohio last night. To teach him how to tap-dance. “Go on in. Watch your step.”

Pulling a clean jacket from the hanger inside the storage space, you will your glare to burn through the newspaper but you’re summarily ignored. Fine.

The back room was once a weapons depository but since the entire MiB headquarters was rebuilt after the turn of the millennium it became just a secondary antechamber for the small office you and Yoongi share. It contains a few display canisters, a galaxy chart, a computer terminal and a small table and chairs for visitors to wait. And now it also holds-

You pause in the doorway, jacket half-pulled up one arm. The client is reclining in one of the chairs, a bored expression on his face and… is that _snow_?

Tiny, miniscule snowflakes are fluffing from a pair of frankly gigantic wings attached to the man’s shoulder blades. Thin and membranous, they’re nearly transparent save for the network of paper-thin blue veins running through them. But they’re there. Wings like an actual, honest-to-god fairy out of a storybook from your childhood. The alien attached to them realises you’re staring like an idiot because he flicks them in annoyance. More snowflakes fall to pile on the floor in tiny white heaps.

“Agent M?”

Inhaling reconnects your synapses and you remember to form words. “Yes. Yes, sir. Agent Y informs me that V sent you to see us.”

The man nods, blinking a pair of eyes that are far too exotic to be from around here. They vaguely remind you of something on this planet but you can’t put your finger on it. So you toss that thought aside and finish putting your suit jacket on.

“What can we do for you, your highness?”

The man’s clothing seems to shimmer as he breathes, flecks of blue and silver interchanging spaces on his long-sleeved shirt and pants. You absolutely can’t believe that immigration sanctioned this as a form for the guy to undertake while on his visit here. Even if the… wings are somehow able to be hidden there’s no way anyone would believe he was an earthling.

“My people address me as Xiumin. It is my official title on my home planet.”

Right. “What’s your earth name for the purposes of your visit?” Crossing to the freestanding computer terminal nearby you bring up the display screen that hovers above it’s white stand. Background information is handy and customs always records all the details of each visitor upon their arrival. It helps you sort through what is truth and what is a lie when encountering new aliens. You wait a beat as the system loads and hear a long-suffering sigh.

“Kim Minseok.”

“Minseok. Okay, better get used to people calling you that if you’re going to be on earth for a little while.” You rattle off the sphiel. “As part of your agreement for visiting a sanctuary planet we don’t allow true names, ancient honorifics, unintelligible nicknames or intergalactic titles. It kind of confuses the locals.”

“I don’t intend to be here long. In fact, I did not intend to be here at _all_.” Minseok’s voice has taken on an agitated tone. “This was… unplanned.”

Finally the screen loads and you enter the alien’s chosen name. The computer flashes up no match. Frowning, you try his official title. Again, zip. _How… odd._ Visitors from Pluto also show nothing scheduled for this entire year. You look over the top of the screen.

“You’re not registered as an official visitor to earth.” _And you cleared customs lightning-fast on diplomatic papers._ “Why exactly are you here, your majesty?”

Minseok’s wings are flicking again. “Earth was a stopover on my journey home. I intended only to refuel before making the last warp. But my guards were in possession of a prisoner who has escaped.”

“You _lost_ an alien here on earth?”

Minseok sighs. “I was transporting him home to face trial. He’s one of my own people and won’t have gone far, not at his size. But I can’t return home without him and I guarantee you won’t want him remaining here. So I have come…” Minseok looks resigned. His wings droop. “To you.”

Flicking the computer off, you cross to the chair opposite his and sit down. It’s a more hazardous journey than usual; you nearly slip on a small melting pile of snow before you get there. “You said at his size. How small are we talking?”

Minseok raises both elegant hands and makes an approximation of the length of a bread box. You fish a notepad from your back pocket and jot that down. “Do you have a description of him? How likely is he to arouse suspicion or panic in a suburban area?”

Minseok flicks his hand around and a small snowflake whirls up from his palm, stretching out and becoming solid. He hands it to you. It’s like holding a paper-thin pane of ice and on one side is an image.

“He’s… a cat?” Suddenly Minseok’s eyes make perfect sense. “You have cats on Pluto?”

“It’s a guise we prefer when not in our true form. Broadcasting waves first reached my planet from yours in the generation before mine. We liked those shapes.”

 _Of course you learned of cats through television_. Humanity really needed to be more careful with it’s galactic fingerprint. “Okay.” You rub your temple with the hand holding your pen. Back on track. “So you were transporting a cat-”

“A political prisoner.”

“Right. And you lost it.”

“It escaped.”

No wonder Yoongi didn’t want to deal with this. “How?”

“Forms for us are… fluid. Temporary and malleable.”

Right. Minseok’s home world is after all the coldest celestial body in your solar system and considering Pluto is composed nearly entirely of nitrogen ice it… does make a strange kind of sense. You can feel a headache forming. “Did he ooze or fracture?”

Minseok has the grace to look abashed. His wings glitter and more snow flitters down. You’re going to need to get a cleanup crew in here tonight.

“He can do both.”

Oh. Brilliant. You make another note. “Is he likely to be laying low or causing a racket?”

“He’ll try to remain inconspicuous, but this planet’s atmospheric temperature is far too warm for us and he’ll eventually be unable to hold his form. Then people will see him and as you say… panic.”

Aaaaand that explains the snow globe effect Minseok has going on in the room. He’s regulating his own body temperature. “Okay so we’re on a time limit. Can I keep the picture or will it, er… melt?”

Minseok shakes his head. “It’ll last a few days.”

“Thank you. I’ll confer with my partner and we’ll investigate. How long are you planetside?”

“As long as it takes. But I won’t be going through the laborious process to leave this facility. I just want to get home.”

That makes you speak before thinking. “So this… _isn’t_ your assigned human guise?”

“Of course not.” Minseok looks surprised. “This is how I normally look.”

 _Space fairies from Pluto_ , you think wearily. Ectoplasm was supposed to have been the weirdest point of your day.

~*~

As it turns out, the laws of physics are what gives you an early break. Smaller objects with a lesser surface area change from their solid state to liquid quicker than larger ones under heat. So it’s barely the following morning when you and Yoongi get a call from upstairs. With a tap your partner brings the holographic screen on the desk you’re both sitting at to life. V’s delicate face shimmers into view above the coffee cups and paperwork you’ve been pouring over.

“We have a possible hit downtown for your case. A housewife just put in a call to wildlife control about a rabid animal in her backyard.”

“Did you put a priority on this case?” Fishing your sidearm from its drawer you toss Yoongi his own. He catches the silver weapon in one hand. “You don’t normally look into this kind of thing yourself.”

“This is an interplanetary diplomatic matter.” V’s normally pleasant face looks harried, his dual-coloured hair squashed in the kind of shape that suggests he slept at the headquarters last night. “I have the Plutonian royal family breathing down my neck about this. The quicker we get this little shit back in custody the better.”

“And you think it’s our alien on this intelligence?”

V smiles tiredly. “She said the animal had more than four legs. And was slopping about.”

Yoongi pulls a neuralyzer from his inner jacket pocket and checks the power level. “That sounds like our boy.”

Satisfied, V signs off. You slip your weapon under the side of your jacket, withdrawing the keys that were taking up the space prior. “You driving?”

Yoongi smiles and wiggles his fingers for the keys. You toss them over too.

~*~

The house is quiet when your car pulls up at the curb. It’s innocuous; a simple red-brick two story with a cute fence on a suburban street. You double check the address. “This seems to be the place.”

Yoongi drums his fingers on the wheel. “Looks nice. No sign of a disturbance.”

“If the woman thought it was an animal she’s not likely to be screaming just yet.”

“Still…” Yoongi hands over the neuralyzer and opens his door. The sleek black Chevy stands out in this silent little neighbourhood like a sore thumb.  “I’ll take the back. What’s the official line?”

“Her call went through the county wildlife management.” The door on your side creeks as it’s swung closed. Your sunglasses safely shield most of the late morning sun but you will have to eventually pocket them. It makes for a friendlier image. “I’ll tell her it’s a small coyote.”

Yoongi snorts.

Stepping onto the lawn you make for the front door. It’s a pretty, pale white with a floral motif on the frosted glass sections at the top. How homely. You wait for Yoongi to reach over the fence’s side gate and unlatch it before knocking once, reaching into your top pocket for identification. Yoongi disappears down the side.

A plump, middle-aged housewife answers the door. Her red hair is pulled back into something out of a fifties sitcom, complete with a little spotted scarf. She looks shaken, too-wide eyes scanning you from head to foot.

You remove your sunglasses and smile warmly. “Good morning Mrs Everson. I’m from the Centres for Disease Control and Prevention.” Your corresponding identification in its thin black casing is flipped open and then snapped shut before she can focus on it properly. “You placed a call this morning?”

The frazzled woman looks askew at you. “But… the CDC? What business do- I mean I called to report a-” she swallows. “There’s something-”

“There’s something in your backyard.” You state gently. “That’s fine. That’s what I’m here for. The call was re-routed to us as a precaution since you mentioned to them that it was sick and you thought it might have rabies. We like to check things out in an event that the animal reported to us is large enough that there may be a significant threat of human contamination through a bite or other dangerous wound transfer. Please,” you indicate the contents of the house behind her. “May I come in?”

Relief floods her face, even as her movements are twitchy. “Oh. Yes. Um, you can call me Sheryl. Please…” she widens the door. “Come in.”

The house is just as picturesque inside as out. You follow the woman as she navigates the tasteful interior full of framed family photos until you emerge into a kitchen. A large window sits over the sink displaying a wide view of the backyard, flanked by bushes under the sill that didn’t grow too high. It’s a model house. Catalogues would be proud.

Sheryl stops at the counter that runs down one side, turning back to you. “I’m so glad you’re here.” Her voice is wavering faintly and she keeps brushing her hands across things on the countertop, flitting over the appliances like a ghost without really landing on anything. “I-I didn’t know who else to call.”

“It’s perfectly fine. You did the right thing. Now,” You glance over her shoulder and spot Yoongi walking through the backyard, looking about the place. You carefully angle yourself along the counter so the woman keeps facing you. “Can you tell me a little about what you saw?” You pull out your notepad. “For our records.”

“It was… My husband thought it was a cat at first.” Sheryl clears her throat. “He’s at work. I sent him off this morning. Didn’t want him to keep poking at that thing to try and get it to come out from under the hedge. It’s been there all morning.”

“I see.” Outside in the yard Yoongi ducks, a small globule of something dark and wet slinging past his head, missing by millimetres. “Can you tell me if your husband touched the animal?”

“No, no. He just tried to coax it out. Was hard to see under all the foliage.”

You nod. “Can you describe the animal to me ma’am?”

Yoongi straightens back up, sternly crossing over and pointing down at something below the window frame. He flashes his badge and says something to whatever is down there that you can’t possibly hear. Sheryl takes a deep breath, hesitating.

“Sheryl, please. I… know what I saw. What I think I saw.” Her artfully-piled red curls wobble as she trembles, visibly trying to make her memories line up with something she can understand. Something from earth. “But I think I must have been mistaken. You’ll think I’m crazy.”

“Trust me,” you aim to assure her. Yoongi suddenly whisks out of sight, yanked downward. Tufts of leaves puff up into the air. “Absolutely nothing you tell me would make me think that.”

A hand appears, latching onto on the base of the window frame. Yoongi drags himself up, shaking his head to clear it. He kicks at whatever is below him and manages to free himself. In front of you Sheryl winds her hands together, absently picking at a fingernail. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.” You plaster on the most reassuring smile you have. “It’s not my place to judge.”

“It was a cat when I first looked at it, you _have_ to understand that. But the longer I looked, there was something… not right about it. It looked… broken.”

A dark, wet whip of something flicks out. Yoongi throws himself out of the view the window provides, dodging the limb. A few moments later he reappears, a rake held warily aloft. He inches closer and slams it down just as Sheryl continues.

“There was no _way_ it’s legs were gonna work like that. I didn’t know if it had been run over or something. We had a dog do that last year, you know. Got hit by a car several houses down and crawled away to die. Is it…” Her eyes go painfully wide. “Is this one going to be put down too?”

“Not if we can help it.” You go for calming. “We’re fully intending to take this little guy back alive.” _V will likely kill us if we don’t._ Outside, the rake is tugged violently from Yoongi’s grip and flung away in a high arc.

Yoongi staggers back and looks like he’s fishing in his pocket, still talking angrily. He tugs out a rolled-up bundle of cords and shakes it out, revealing a small weighted net. Immediately the bushes under the window rustle in a wave of movement swiftly headed in the opposite direction. Yoongi gives an irritated flick of his jaw and sprints off in chase.

“Oh, okay. Thank you. That’s…” Sheryl still seems a little stunned and out of sorts. “That’s good. But this thing… I still don’t know what it- oh. Did you want some tea? I’m so sorry. My manners today. I’m all over the place.” Flicking on the nearby kettle before you can answer she plucks a pair of mugs off a wooden tree holder perched nearby, upending them the right way and settling them down. Still, they rattle. Placing her hands flat on the table she inhales slowly. “I’m sorry,” she repeats, finally reaching for a small box nearby.

A pair of tea bags are flopped into the ceramic depths. Sheryl stares vaguely at them like they hold all the answers she seeks.

Several more globules of liquid zip past the window. Yoongi’s shoulder rolls back into view and he pitches back a few steps, a large lump of something black and gelatinous attached to his arms, trying to leech onto his face. They spin, tipped back as Yoongi holds it at arms length out in front of him. He overbalances and drops down into the bushes. Sheryl whimpers.

“I keep thinking about how it moved. And the breathing. Like it had something stuck in its chest. Heavy breaths. And when it tried to move it…” She suddenly swings her eyes to you. They’re huge and imploring. “It wasn’t like a cat or a dog. It sort of wriggled. S _lithered_.” 

The kettle whistles.

Sheryl still stands staring at you, trembling, unmoved by the sound. You recognise the beginnings of shock so you pick the kettle up instead and pour the contents into both the mugs. The tea bags roll and puff up, floating to the top. That seems to stir her because she blinks a few times like she’s coming up from a dream.

“Oh. Would you… like sugar in that? Milk?” She asks randomly, shakily, turning towards the fridge next to the window. “I have soy.”

“No!” You interject quickly, reaching for her arm and guiding her back to facing in your direction. “Uh, no thank you. I’m fine really.” Outside Yoongi is visible again, staggering to his feet, a sleeve now ripped almost completely off his jacket at the shoulder. He’s looking around for something and must find it because he dives out of view.

“Look, you’re going to call the asylum on me for this, I know you are.” Sheryl’s voice is pitched higher, wobbling firmly along towards panicked the more she remembers what she saw. “But that… animal didn’t move properly. I swear I saw…” She‘s gearing herself up, remembering more accurate details. “They weren’t really legs at all. They were limbs. They looked like _tentacles_.”

Reaching out, you scoop up her mug and push it into her hands. The warmth will help. She trails back into her memory, muttering almost to herself.

“It was so… grotesque. So misshapen. This big black lump with a cat’s head like… It was dissolving.”

Through the glass pane the net is flung high, dropping back like a stone. Yoongi comes into view at a running jump and disappears under the height of the sill. Sheryl turns her frightened, beseeching eyes back to you and you snap your gaze onto her face again.

“ _Please_. I know you have no reason to believe me, but I can’t even begin to tell you what animal that thing was supposed to be.”

Removing the tea bag from your own mug, you scoop hers out also and place them both into the small bin on the countertop. “I can tell you what it was, Mrs Evanson.”

Her brow furrows. “I told you, you can call me Sheryl.”

Draining the mug in several long gulps burns slightly, but it’s not scalding. Not after you’ve had the Annelid’s home brew back at headquarters. You set the empty mug back down. “No, Mrs Evanson. You didn’t. You see, you’ve never met me so you never asked me to call you that.”

“I- what? You _don’t_ believe me? But you said I could tell you the truth!”

Reaching inside your jacket pocket you withdraw the Ray-Bans there, sliding them onto your face and pushing them to rest snugly on your nose with one finger. From inside your pants pocket comes your most familiar device. It’s the size of a pocket recorder; silver and slender. “The answer to that question is right here, Mrs Evanson. It’s going to be okay.”

Outside Yoongi stands, roughed up and cross, slinging the net over one shoulder in a grumpily satisfied move. The tightly-knit cords hold the thick substance inside, morosely dripping down the back of his suit. He trudges off with it.

“And Mrs Evanson,” making firmly sure she’s looking directly in your direction you bring the neuralyzer up to eye level and dial back the last twenty minutes. Depressing the button causes the little alien device to whir to life. “I believe every word you’ve told me.”

In a bright flash the electronic impulses that control the woman’s memory are fizzled, seared and vaporised. She blinks, stunned. “Who-”

You pocket the neuralyzer. “Thank you so much for your call Mrs Evanson. The animal you found was an injured, dirty little coyote that found its way into your backyard. Poor creature had broken three legs in an unfortunate collision with a motorist. Can’t walk at all. My partner has captured the animal and it will be taken to a local veterinarian for examination and possible euthanization. Please let your husband know when he returns home.”

Sheryl blinks again. “Oh,”

Reaching out you pat her fingers that are still cradling the cup. “You’ve done very well Mrs Evanson. I’ll see myself out.”

The pleasant kitchen and hallway recedes behind you as you walk out, closing the front door with a firm click. The green lawn squelches underfoot, grass freshly reticulated. You reach the car as Yoongi is bundling the squirming creature into the back seat.

Leaning a hand on the low black roof, you bend enough to see into the open door beside him. “You drip all over the upholstery and you’re riding the whole way in the trunk, I’m warning you now. It’s air-conditioned in here. Stop oozing.”

Bulbous wet eyes the size of golf balls gaze stubbornly back at you. A wheezing gurgle sounds from what has to be a voice box somewhere.

“Of course we had to pick you up. You’re not exactly subtle.” Yoongi slams the door and walks to the front, sliding into the driver’s seat. His ripped sleeve flaps as he hooks an elbow over the seat top to look back. “Plus your royal entourage needs you back rather urgently, since you managed to slip out of their hands. Or paws. Whatever.”

You angle yourself down into the front beside him, holding out a hand palm-up. Yoongi smacks his hand down against yours in a soggy high five. Bubbling irritably in the back seat your resident wad of dark blubber croaks out a long series of sharp, angry sounds.

Yoongi smirks and turns back around to face the wheel. The engine rumbles to life at the twist of his key in the ignition. “Yeah, yeah. You and your mother too.”

Gravel crunches under the tires as Yoongi guides the car away from the verge. Settling back, you pull your sunglasses off. The world becomes bright again.

~*~


End file.
